


Angsty Drabble

by Readmynovels



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Pink Panties, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 17:39:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18761215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Readmynovels/pseuds/Readmynovels
Summary: Peter sneaks into Tony's mansion in the middle of the night.





	Angsty Drabble

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little drabble I posted on my tumblr, richieloveseds

Tony was in the middle of pouring his second scotch when Jarvis alerted him there was something wrong.

  
“Sir, the southwest window on the second floor has been breached.”

  
Tony didn’t have any doubts. Who else could successfully break into his mansion?

  
“Shall I engage the security protocol?” The A.I. suggested. “There seems to be someone—”

  
“Don’t bother.” Tony brushed him off, putting the top back on the bottle and whisking his glass with him. Tony may have designed the kid’s suit, but he didn’t give him the spidey senses he used to prevent his detection from Jarvis.

  
If he was on the second floor, it wouldn’t take long for the kid to appear.

  
Peter would find his way back to Tony like he always did.

  
Idly, Tony tilted his head back to scan the ceiling for him. If he was a smarter man, Tony would throw back the rest of the scotch in one unforgiving swig. He’d accept that his desire for his sixteen-year-old apprentice was stronger than his will to do the right thing, which was to send him home, and he’d have the boy moaning in his king-sized bed within minutes of greeting him.  
Tony’s stubbornness stilled him. Instead, he toyed with the glass in his hand, staring at the amber liquid and listening to the ice cubes clinking against each other.

  
“Can I have some?” Peter’s voice came out crystal clear and only a yard or two behind him.

  
Tony didn’t flinch. If anything, he tried not to visibly relax from hearing him, the kid’s presence seeping warmth into the cold, metallic room.

  
“You’re not twenty-one.” He replied stiffly without turning, raising the glass to his lips and letting the cool, oaky taste burn his tongue. It was a hypocritical response, of course. Part of him wanted Peter to laugh, the other wanted him to call him out on it. He did neither, instead stepping closer into the man’s view. Tony shifted his gaze from his glass to look at him. He was fully dressed in his Spider-Man suit, like he just came from a patrol.

  
Peter slipped his mask off easily, and held the red fabric limply by his side like a child with a teddy bear. His hair was ruffled by taking it off, brown locks adorably strewn out of place.

  
“I won’t tell anyone.” He smiled sweetly, knowing full-well what the implication meant.

  
“You know that you shouldn’t be here.” Tony scolded, resisting the urge to add a pet name at the end of his sentence as he set the glass back on the bar.

  
“I wanted to see you.” Peter admitted with flickering eyes and a ducked head, suddenly shy despite his bold entrance. All that did was remind Tony why he was so drawn to him.

  
Peter was a paradox in every meaning of the word.

  
He was practically silent with how he moved, delicate and light on his feet, but could throw a 4,000 pound car and tear up a street like it was nothing. He was serious—could nod with pursed lips and furrowed eyebrows during a mission run-through, understanding the severity of lives at stake, his own included--but he was also playful, and could turn into a giggling mess at the drop of a hat. His laughter was light and warm like he had only known happiness when Tony knew that wasn’t true, knew the trauma the kid had been through—and still continued to go through with every villain they took on.

  
And of course, he was innocent--with wide eyes, a soft voice, and an unparalleled faith in people who didn’t deserve it. But he was filthy, too, with how he got on his knees and sucked Tony’s cock like a little porn star, and rutted into his leg like a horny dog, whining and trembling and begging.

  
“It’s a school night.” Tony couldn’t help but bleed his detest into the word as he said it. Because Peter had fucking school—because he was a student at Midtown _High_.

  
He knew none of this was Peter’s fault. It was Tony’s. It was always Tony’s. He was the one who let it go too far. He was the one who couldn’t put the kid’s virtue before his own selfish cravings.

  
“Jarvis can set an alarm for me in the morning.” Peter suggested quickly, and to prove his point, added, “Can’t you, Jarvis?”

  
“Yes, Mr. Parker.” The A.I. responded promptly, and Peter beamed back at Tony victoriously.

  
“See? No problem.”

  
“Peter.” Baby. “I can’t. I told you we can’t keep doing this. It’s not fair to anyone involved.” It’s not fair to you. “I’m sorry, but I think you should go home.”

  
Tony expected the final blow to crush him (Tony was fully prepared to drown himself in liquor as soon as the kid left), but he just stared at the floor, almost in contemplation.

  
“But there’s something wrong with the suit.”

  
That sentence gave Tony pause.

  
“What?”

  
“Yeah. I was swinging around 37th earlier and I felt this burn on my side.” Peter explained, gesturing to his right upper quadrant. “At first I thought I got hit with some kind of blast, but no one was shooting at me.”

  
The engineer in Tony went on high alert, immediately looking for any obvious damage on the suit. From a glance, everything looked alright, but that didn’t say much. He needed more light. He needed his resources from downstairs. He had to tap into the suit’s database to figure out what the problem was.

  
“Come on.” Tony ordered, walking towards the door. Peter was already following him before he even told him they were going to the lab. The kid would probably follow him straight off a cliff without questioning it.

  
“Has it happened since?” Tony asked. He might as well have been walking alone with how quiet Peter’s footsteps were as they went down the staircase.

  
“Uh, on my way over here, I think.”

  
“You think?” Tony frowned as he entered the passcode. The door unlocked with a click and Tony held it open for Peter to go in first.

  
“I mean, it did.” The kid said with more certainty as he stepped into the lab. “Same kind of burning thing.”

  
Peter’s suit was made up of hundreds of dangerous gizmos and gadgets, many that the kid didn’t even know were there. If he was burned by some sort of electrical malfunction, he could get easily get tasered or seriously cut just as easily. And the idea of either of those things happening while the kid was in the air was terrifying—becoming too surprised or paralyzed or hurt to use his web shooters in the moment, causing him to fall from hundreds of feet. The thought put Tony on edge.

  
Peter, on the other hand, looked completely carefree, hopping up onto the table and swinging his feet lightly.

  
Tony approached him to get close enough to inspect the suit. Soon, the kid’s knees were practically brushing his stomach.

  
Peter swallowed as the man treaded in front of him.

  
“Let me know if this hurts.”

  
Peter nodded obediently and Tony took it as an okay to continue.

  
Carefully, he grazed his fingers over Peter’s chest, feeling for specific tension in the fibers, trying to ignore how close they were in proximity and how sweet Peter smelled, like he was wearing some type of perfume or had washed his hair with something strawberry-scented. Knowing the kid, it was from probably both.

  
When Tony looked back at his face, he saw that Peter’s eyes were closed. Tony moved his hand away and Peter blinked dazedly.

  
“Nothing?”

  
“No, sir.” He responded docilely, eyes darker than they had been, despite the room’s brighter lighting.

  
“Peter,” Tony started, almost like a reprimand. But what was he supposed to say? _Don’t call me “sir” so that I don’t get turned on because I’m a fucking pervert_? So, Tony just stood there blankly, letting the sentence die out with his name.

  
“Yes, Mr. Stark?”

  
The boy’s tongue peeked out of his mouth, catching Tony’s attention. He licked his lips slowly, making them glisten. Tony couldn’t look away, drawn in like a moth to light. It wasn’t fair how easy it would be to kiss him right now.

  
“I can take the suit off.” Peter offered.

  
The suggestion was like being pinched from a daydream, and Tony took a step back, breaking eye contact with him.

  
“It will make it easier to look at.” Peter added, probably sensing his reluctance.

  
“That’s not necessary.” He cleared his throat.

  
“But what if it does the burning thingy again?” The kid pressed.

  
Tony hesitated.

  
If something had hurt him from the suit, it was Tony’s fault. He programmed any possible malfunctions to direct away from his skin--had even designed a protective layer, but if Peter got hurt despite that, it was because Tony did something wrong.

  
“I can get you some clothes.”

  
“You don’t have to.” Peter assured, hand already floating near his chest, ready to press the spider emblem that would loosen his suit at Tony’s approval. “I’m wearing something under this.”

  
Tony didn’t know how he managed that. Whatever the kid had on underneath had to be snug. The suit wasn’t supposed to be worn with clothes aside from boxers. He designed the suit to be tight-fitting, to move with him, covering his entire frame like a layer of paint. Oh, god. He made the suit in a specific way to highlight Peter’s lean body. The realization only disgusted Tony more. Even a year before something happened between them, Tony had still looked at the kid with so much desire. He could have made it bulkier, but he didn’t because he wanted to see Peter’s figure, the little curve of his hips.

  
“Look, I have some spare sweatpants and a hoodie somewhere down here.” Tony glanced around, eyeing his gray MIT sweatshirt over one of the chairs. “One sec.” He told Peter before turning away him and making his way over to it. “Jarvis, scan the suit for infractions.”

  
“Right away, sir.” Jarvis replied.

  
The hoodie was decently sized on Tony, so it would be more than big enough to cover Peter aptly. Sure, it might be a little hard to see how adorable the kid would look in his own clothing, but Tony could stifle his urge to touch him.

  
“Alright, Pete,” Tony said, hoodie in hand, and turned back around, “you can—”

  
Any chance of finishing that sentence was lost as he took in the sight of the kid. His suit was completely off, into a little ball by his feet, the fucking blue light from Jarvis’s diagnostic scan obediently shining on it.

  
His fair, toned chest was completely on display, as were his pretty nipples, beautifully hard like when Tony played with them for an hour two weeks ago. What was more eye-catching, enough to make the older man drool, was the pair of pink panties he was wearing.

  
Peter Parker. In pretty pink panties.

  
Tony couldn’t resist staring, taking it all in--the bulge of Peter’s hard cock obvious against the thin, dainty material, pre-cum already leaking through the satin, making a small, wet circle where the tip of his cock was trapped. Lace delicately lined on the trim, resting lightly against his milky hips, accentuating the almost feminine curve of Peter’s body.

  
Jarvis’s voice broke the silence; however long it was, Tony had no idea.

  
“No infractions detected, sir.”

  
So, it was all a lie then. Peter was never injured by the suit because there was nothing wrong with it in the first place. No malfunctions. No burning—or whatever Peter had said on the spot. It was just a ploy created to get more time with Tony before he made him leave. So he could show him this. It was conniving and manipulative and deceitful and nothing like how Peter Parker typically acted.

  
The worst part was that Tony didn’t care.

  
“I thought you said you were wearing clothes.” He said as he stalked towards the boy. As he came closer, he could see the panties in even more detail, the prettiest shade of baby pink, but Tony snapped his eyes up to meet the kid’s.

  
“I am.” Peter tilted his head innocently. “Do you like them, Mr. Stark?”

  
Wordlessly, Tony traced his fingertips over the silky material, a millimeter separating his touch from the boy’s cock. Peter let out a long moan, not even trying to restrain himself.

  
“I like them very much, baby.” Tony murmured, noticing the way Peter beamed at the pet name.

  
“I picked this out just for you.”

  
“Did you?” Tony hummed appreciatively as he stroked his hands slowly down the boy’s hips to his little waist.

  
God, the idea of Peter wandering into a lingerie store and picking out the most feminine, delicate panties with impressing Tony in mind didn’t help the man’s erection at all.

  
Just, _Peter_ , sweet, adorable Peter, going up to the cash register, all doe-eyed and innocent-faced, and handing over the panties to some woman who had to be curious what he’d do with them as she rang him up…it was a pretty picture.

  
“Yes, daddy.” Peter nodded, knowing exactly what that word did to Tony.

  
This was always the point when he would realize there was no turning back—sending Peter away was no longer an option, as if it ever had been at all.

  
It was a cycle between them that Tony didn’t know how to quit. They both knew what would happen next.

  
He’d take Peter’s hand, lead him upstairs into his bedroom, where he’d pull his panties to the side and fuck him mercilessly until he came inside, the boy’s tight hole milking his cock like he was made for it, Peter’s moans filling the entire house.

  
“We can’t do this again.” Tony would say as he pulled out and wrapped his arms around his boy, too tired to care about cleaning up the cum leaking from Peter’s ass. Peter would make a little noise in agreement, satiated for the time being, his pants winding down to a normal breathing rate, and then he would nuzzle closer to Tony into cuddling territory.  
“Okay, Mr. Stark.” He would mumble back sleepily.

  
Tony would gaze at him then, unable to help it, taking in how peaceful the boy looked with his eyes closed, eyelashes fanning delicately against his soft, porcelain skin, cheeks still flushed with pleasure. It would almost be too much for the man to take, such a foreign but beautiful feeling he was scared to get used to. The intimacy of being so close to the one person who made him feel like he could catch his breath.

  
And then Tony would give in again.


End file.
